


Blackened Souls

by audreyslove



Series: Blackened Souls [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 03:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13538820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audreyslove/pseuds/audreyslove
Summary: Written for #OQPromptParty Day 5: Hogwarts AU where Robin is the Gryffindor Guy who falls for the Slytherin girl Regina.I took a little twist on this, because I don't see Regina as a Slytherin. :)





	Blackened Souls

The first day of school is always such an  _event._ Robin is a sixth year now, and having been through the ritual five times before, he finds the day downright boring.  But no one else seems to share that sentiment, which is somewhat frustrating.  Emma and Will argue about the new  students every year, trying to pick out which of the fresh new faces will join them in Gryffindor.  

It's Groundhog Day, every year the same predictable shit.

Except for this one.

This year there are no excited shouts roaring over the dining hall.  And the first years look more scared than nervous.

This year is all different because of  _her._ Regina Mills, a sixth year transfer from Ilvermorny.  It's not like she's hard to spot, sitting there with the other unsorted students, a few heads taller than the second tallest one at her table.

People are pointing and whispering.  The unsorted children are crowded into their space together, putting as much room as possible between them and Regina.  

“That's her,” Emma mutters.  “The girl who died.”

Robin has heard the stories and is fully aware of why she is called  _The Girl Who Died,_ but he can't help but think that she looks very much  _alive_ right now, with cherry red lips and a nice blush to olive skin.  

She's stunning, absolutely so.  His heart knocks in a special way just looking at her that almost embarrasses him.

“I doubt she  _really_ died,” Will chimes in.  “That sounds like bullshit.  I'm sure she charmed herself or something.  She's got powerful magic, right?  That's why she has the cursed mark.”

“Please there's no such thing as a cursed mark,” Robin spits out.  “And where, I don't see any—”

She turns just then, enough so he can catch her whole face - can see the tiny scar above her lip.  Oh.  

“That's just a scar,” Robin scoffs.  He draws back his robe and points at the scar on his upper arm.  “I suppose I am cursed with dark magic, too?”

“No, because you got your scar when you decided to try to ride a unicorn.” Emma argues.

Well, that’s a story isn’t it?  But it’s not the point, so Robin just smiles cheekily back at her and reminds her,  

“You get my point. We don't know how she got hers either.  That story is just a rumor. And I’m all too familiar with rumors, they made my first year here miserable.”

“That was different,” Emma waves off.  “You survived a very deadly curse.  You didn’t….have the oddest survival story ever, and what about all those rumors of her cursing those who wronged her in Ilvermorny?  I heard she was vindictive as fuck, she—”

But Robin isn’t listening.  He’s watching how she picks at her food, the solemn way she looks at her plate, the elegant, regal posture she carries.  She’s gorgeous.

“Well the Ministry denies The Curse exists, or that Regina was ever involved in any wrongdoing.” he says with a shrug.

“The ministry is full of shit,” Emma scowls.  “They cover up everything.  Look, I feel bad for her, but if she was cursed with this dark magic, she's a walking time bomb.  And Ilvermorny clearly didn't want her,” she shrugs.  “Probably for good reason.”

“I heard she was transferred because most of the students refused to attend if she stayed,” Robin argues.  “She doesn't really look that dangerous.”

“I'm not proud of how people are acting about this either.  But looks can be deceiving,” Emma mutters.  “There are bets on where she's going to place — 10 to 1 odds on Slytherin, of course.”

“Wasn't she a Horned Serpent in Ilvermorny?” Robin asks.

“Sure,  _before_ her soul was blackened and cursed,” Will argues, “she's a Slytherin, plain and simple.”

Robin smiles as he stares at her.  “I hope she's Gryffindor.”

“Oh don't say that Robin,” Emma mutters, “we have enough problems without a potential ticking time bomb to deal with.”

“She’s a problem I’d  _like_ to deal with.”

“For fuck’s sake, Robin, sometimes I swear you have a death wish,” Will grumbles before grabbing another dinner roll.

“I just know how it is to be judged on the crimes of our parents,” Robin snaps back.  And that has Will wincing apologetically, and Emma once again attempting to differentiate Robin’s story from Regina’s.

But he won’t hear any of it.

 

.::.

 

Every day she seems to suffer a new humiliation.  But this, this day is worse than she ever anticipated.

She's sitting at a table meant for 10 year olds, and were she anyone else, the first years would probably surround her with questions, the way first years tend to.

But she is Regina Mills, so they are all crowded on the end of the large table, huddled as far away from her as they can get.

That's familiar, at least.  Her mother is Cora Mills.  People have been shrinking away her whole life.

But this time they are avoiding her because they know her secret.  They know that her soul is dark and twisted and broken.

They know she's destined for evil deeds, and can never be anything else.

Sure, they have the details wrong.  The Dark Wizard did not enchant her soul with a piece of him.  As far as she knows that stubborn scar isn't a cursed mark...if such a thing even exists.

Though she’s not sure what happened after her mother attacked Daniel, she just remembers jumping in front of him, intending to lay her life down for his —  and then her mother’s magic hit her and she just… collapsed.

She awoke later in the hospital.  Some kind nurse, unafraid and loving, broke the news that her mother was now in Azkaban, that she had a scar they could not remove, and that Daniel, sweet Daniel, was dead.

That same nurse had told Regina she had no vital signs herself for several minutes before the breathing started, and that typically can occur with certain protection spells.

But as far as Regina knew, no one had ever placed such a spell on her.

Doctors, prosecutors and judges asked questions she simply did not know the answers to, and it all seemed very suspicious.  But she passed every lie detecting test they gave her, and in the end, the Ministry had no choice but to declare her innocent of all wrongdoing.

She isn't even sure they came to the right conclusion.

Part of the investigation had leaked to the public, and some wizards had theories that were adopted as truth by the paparazzi.

And she became the cursed girl, the girl who died, the possessed girl, the evil girl, the Dark One’s apprentice…

After several discussions with the International Counsel regarding her future it was decided that she should seek a fresh start in a new school, where there were no students whose loved ones had died at the hand of Cora Mills, where there were no rumors of her essentially being radioactive.

She didn't have to see the faces of the victims of her mother anymore, but those rumors flowed quite easily across the pond.

And now here she is, waiting to be sorted into a new house at age  _16_ , while every person in the entire dining hall is hoping to god she's not sorted into their house.

 _Just two more years_ she thinks to herself.  But god, whatever will become of her after that?  Who would hire her, who would lease her an apartment, hell, who will as much as sell her groceries?

Perhaps she will live with the Muggles.  She should probably take some muggle classes, to brush up on how to behave….

She's so lost in her own thoughts and worries she doesn't see the blue eyed boy in Gryffindor robes until he's seated next to her.

“Hello,” he says, “I'm Robin Locksley.  And I'm going to guess you're Regina Mills… right?”

Her throat goes dry.  This must be some prank.  Perhaps he's trying to distract her while another person hits her from behind with some sort of charm or curse.  She looks behind her back nervously, gnawing on her bottom lip the way her mother hated.

“In case it wasn't exceedingly obvious, I was talking to you,” Robin says after a few seconds of quiet.  “I have to imagine the first day has to be a bit overwhelming, even for a fellow sixth year.”

She lets herself look at him —  _really_ look at him.  And she was told never to trust her instincts.  Her mother always said she was a horrible judge of character, but well, her gut tells her this boy is being sincere, that he's honestly trying to make her feel welcome.

She bites down that voice.  She's so often wrong.  So often hurt.

“Are you part of the welcoming committee?” she draws sarcastically, “Because you can save it, I've been here before.  You've seen one wizarding school, you've seen them all.  Four houses, magical elements, we all develop an epic rivalry, and everyone pretends to know you at your most intimate level purely on the basis of what house you're sorted in.  Did I miss anything?” 

She figures she's shared enough to chase him away, but he shakes his head, amused and sits next to her.  So close.  When was the last time anyone voluntarily sat so close?

“I heard you were a Horned Serpent,” Robin says, sitting down.  “But I know in your sorting process, you get a say if more than one house wants you.  Were there any other houses in the running?”

Regina looks down at her untouched plate of food.  “What difference does it make?  I made my choice.”

“Because I find it fascinating,” Robin quickly replies, before smiling at her.  “And because we are betting on what house you are going to be sorted in.  And I think you might be able to give me some insider information.”

Well then.  Perhaps he deserves insider information for being the only one to actually talk to her.

And this is a source of pride for her, after all.

“All of them,” she whispers, unable to hide the smile on her face.

 “ _All_ of them?” Robin asks incredulously.  “Well that narrows it down, doesn't it?”

“But I  _chose_ Horned Serpent,” she reminds.  She knows the hat, from what little she has read, does take into account preferences too, just in a different way.

Robin contemplates, and then winks.  “I suppose I can’t tempt you to change your preference to Gryffindor?” He asks it so earnestly.  He has what he has come here for, why is he still talking to her?

“If your friends found out you had a role to play in me joining your house they would never forgive you,” Regina says sternly.  

“Then my friends are idiots,” he shrugs, then leans in, close to her ear.  “I know you’ve heard the whispers, I know what it’s like to be famous before you’ve ever entered that door.  If you ever need to talk, I’m here.” 

“What makes you think you know me that well?” Regina asks skeptically.

“Because, Girl Who Died…” he says slowly, “I am the Boy Who Lived.”

She can’t believe she didn’t recognize him.  It’s been years, years since the incident.  He was a babe, a little toddler when the news aired.  Regina has no memories of the incident when it occurred, she was too young then, but she remembers people in America whispering about it occasionally when she was younger.  But then the stories faded as bigger events overpowered that past incident.  

She always found the boy who lived fascinating, if she’s honest.  She's heard tidbits of his antics here and there.  He's daring and adventurous, has his own set of rules that often tend to clash with the rules of Hogwarts and the Ministry.  Once there was an alert out to check clothing items for enchantments, because word was the Boy Who Lived enchanted the expensive shoes that were for sale in Diagon Alley, so that the wearer of them feels indescribably generous, and has a need to give to everyone less fortunate.  Another time she read that the boy had nearly been expelled after giving broomstick rides rides to children in an orphanage (Robin is supposedly quite amazing at flying, though she's never seen him in action before).  He was a legend as a toddler, and proved to be a bit of a thorn in the establishment's side as an adult.  

Here he is, the boy who survived the most deadly curse in the world, just smiling back at her.  

“I know, I’ve aged terribly.” His voice drips of sarcasm - and rightfully so.  He went from adorable child to….well, quite a handsome man.  The years have been kind to him.  “I don’t blame you for not recognizing me.”

“No, you are very recognizable,” she drawls, “I am just surprised.  The person I read about in the papers seemed so… daring.”

“Oh I am  _very_ daring,” he promises.  

“Mmhmm,” she hums, making her disbelief clear.  “I'd half-expected you to be pulling a prank as some sort of protest of Sorting Day.  You know, since you have always been described as such a rebel.  But here you are, with nothing better to do than to talk to the new girl.  I believe you've lost your edge, what a shame.”

“Oh, but you misunderstand.  I have plenty of better things to do.  I  _like_ talking to the new girl,” Robin insists, “the new girl is rather interesting, and quick witted.”

“The new girl rolls her eyes at false flattery,” she warns.

But he just shakes his head.  “Then I have nothing to fear, there is  _nothing_ false about my flattery.”

 She rolls those eyes anyway, but it only draws those dimples of his further out, as if he won.

“By the way, this,” he motions to the dining hall, to the whispered crowds of pointing students, “is temporary and will be over sooner than you think.  I can tell you that they have a short memory here.  There will be a new drama, and people will forget about you.”

She raises her eyebrows and teases, “Way to make a girl feel special.”

He grins like an idiot, but it works on him.  He looks so god damned adorable.  “Now one thing I can say is for certain is that I will  _not_ forget you,” he flirts.  

And she can't understand why he's doing this, she should be skeptical of his motives.  But that smile she tries so hard to bite back creeps through for a second, before she replaces it with an unamused pursing of the lips. “Whatever you're after, Robin Locksley, I don't have it.”

“I'm not after anything from you.  Just your friendship, if that is possible.”

“I'm not sure that it is,” Regina says, “I'm not much for friends.”

“I don't believe that,” Robin says, tilting his head. “you seem to be lovely company, from what I have seen.”

“Well you haven't seen too much of me.”

“Pity, that.” Robin gives her that look, that sweeping of his eyes, and if she didn't know better she would think he was honest to god interested in her.

But she's cursed, and dark, and he's light and good, and he could never want anything like  _that_ from her.

She tries to look annoyed, she really does, but she just managed a half disgusted smirk and a shake of her head.

“I guess I should be going,” he says after a few minutes of tension filled silence.  I'm not supposed to be sitting here, after all.  And you know how much I love to follow the rules…”

She snorts at that, rolling her eyes.  And then she tells him to get back to his table.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says with a little salute.  

God he's cute.

“Wait,” she hears herself say in a shaky breath.  She corrects that, let's her voice go sultry and warm as she asks, “So what will you bet?  Where do you think I'll be sorted?”

“As much as I'd like to imagine that I've convinced you to go with Gryffindor, you are going to remain true to yourself, yeah?  Ravenclaw,” he sighs.  “Our loss, I'm afraid.”

“You don't think Slytherin?” she asks, “The Dark One was a Slytherin, and you've heard the rumors.”

 “Slytherin doesn't suit you,” he says with a shrug.  “And I don't believe for a second that your soul has been blackened or possessed by the Dark One.  You're too… caring.”

“I could be dangerous,” she warns.

“I don't think so,” Robin says with a shrug.  “But even if you were, I can't say I'm not one to be deterred by a bit of danger.  Quite the opposite.”

Ugh.  Gryffindors.

 

.::.

 

“Regina Mills.”

Dumbledore calls her up to be sorted and the room grows loud with a thousand whispers.  People are pointing at her, and she overheard words she wishes she didn't.

Still she keeps her head held high and walks towards the sorting hat.  

She catches Robin out of the corner of her eye and smiles at him.  He winks back at her.

And suddenly she doesn't feel so alone.

“A difficult one,” the hat murmurs into her ear.  “I can see it, the elements of all houses swirled into one, but what defines you?  What do you pride yourself the most on?  Oh, I've got it.”

“It'll be…. RAVENCLAW!”

She's shocked.  She expected Slytherin for herself.  A new, dark house, for her new dark soul.

Her sorting is the only one where the  _other_ houses cheer, and she looks regretfully at her new housemates, who are no doubt also wondering how she wound up with them instead of Slytherin.

Her cheeks heat, and she tries to keep the tears at bay.  My god she won't cry at a ritual meant for ten year olds.

Dumbledore quiets them, shakes them, tells them that they should even be  _proud_ to have the likes of her in their house… bullshit if she's ever heard it.  But it seems to work well enough for some of them.

She takes a seat at the end of the house table and tries not to feel too hurt when she hears the scooting of chairs as people slide away from her.

 

.::.

 

Orientation for the Ravenclaw house is uneventful.  There are a few members who are surprisingly nice - Roland, a curious, but sweet first year who has entered Hogwarts two years younger than the others.  He's exceptionally bright and talented, and for some reason he takes an interest in her, pulling on her robe and introducing himself sheepishly, and telling her he thinks she is very brave.  

There’s Jefferson, an eccentric sixth year who introduces himself quietly.  He has wild eyes, and talks her ear off about the mysteries in the castle, how interesting it is to explore.  He's very interested in Ilvermorny, so she shares with him all she can, because it's nice to talk to someone about something — anything — that isn't the Dark One.

But the most unexpected welcome comes from Belle, a beautiful seventh year who takes it upon herself to hug her and welcome her to ravenclaw.

“It's the best house,” Belle gushes, “And I know since you are one of us, you must take an interest in your studies.  Is there any subject you are particular interested in?”

“Potions,” Regina admits, “always my strongest subject.”

“Mine too!” Belle says, “I want to check your schedule, I may have notes that will help you.”

Regina nods and tries to smile through her anxiety.  

When she sleeps that night, it's with a little less fear and dread.

Though the nightmares she's had ever since the night Daniel died — those persist.

 

.::.

 

She's on her way to the breakfast hall when she spots Robin again.  He's surrounded by people, and he's telling some sort of story and laughing exuberantly.

It strikes Regina how at ease he is here at school.  It's as if he were tailor made for Hogwarts, or any boarding school at all.  He has an entourage of sorts, complete with first and second years who hang off his every word, and a few very pretty girls who laugh too loudly to sound authentic.

She's suddenly very jealous of him, for how easily he fits into this world, despite  _his_ past, and the rumors that surrounded him all those years ago.

Things won't be so easy for her.

She forgets that she is staring until Robin catches her doing so, and then she darts her eyes away and pretends to take a keen interest in the architecture of the dining hall ceiling.

But it's too late.  Robin has left his group, and is rushing towards her.

“Hello again,” he says with a wink, “how was your first night in Hogwarts?”

“Surprisingly not as awful as I thought it would be,” she admits.

Robin smiles proudly.  “Belle’s a great girl.  Good friend of mine.  She told me she welcomed you.”

“She did, it was very unexpected.”

“You're in a house full of intellectually curious thinkers.  Now I find the whole lot of you to be insufferable,” she laughs as he winks at her, “but I believe their desire to  _learn_ will outweighs any instinct to run from you.  I think it was a good choice.”

“Shall we congratulate the sorting hat on his fine choice?”

Robin frowns and shakes his head.  “I'm still angry with it for not putting you in Gryffindor,” he sighs.  “Luckily we have all our classes together…”

And how would he know that?  And how is that possible?

 “ _All_ of our classes?”

“Except for advanced potions.  I couldn't get into that if I tried.  I'm absolute shit at potions, not even Belle can help me.  But yes, all of the rest of our classes.  What a coincidence, huh?”

“Mm,” Regina frowns.  “Somehow I doubt that.”

Robin shrugs.  “Maybe the universe wants us to see more of one another.”

“Maybe someone broke into the school records and rearranged schedules,” Regina accuses.

Robin strokes his chin, as if considering her words.  “If someone did that they'd be risking expulsion just so I could be closer to you.  That would really be desperate, wouldn't it?”

“It would,” Regina agrees.  “And if  _you_ were to do it, it'd be a bit stalkerish.”

He bites on that bottom lip and says “Well good thing I didn't do it, huh?”

If she's being honest with herself, she's happy to hear she will have a familiar face in her classes.

If she's being  _truly_ honest, she's happy to hear it's a face she quite likes to look at.

But she's never been a fan of self-honesty, so she tries to convince herself she's upset, and shouldn't trust this popular, loud Gryffindor with his deep dimpled smile and too-blue eyes.

She decides she doesn't like him.

He's nosy and full of himself and up to something, no doubt.  So she denies herself permission to be happy about this new kinship, and focuses on ignoring him.  

She fails.

 

.::.

 

Regina waits every day for the other shoe to drop — for Robin to finally reveal his motivations for being so nice to her.

But sometime in late October she lets herself believe he may not have any motives at all.

He defends her when classmates gripe about her.  He sits next to her in all their classes despite the rumor of her having some contagious type of curse.  

He works her way into her heart, slowly at first.  He asks for help on homework assignments, and offers her help in the one class where he is better than her — Defense Against The Dark Arts.

She never truly struggled with school before and DADA was no exception.  But now, after her  _incident,_ well… it seems nothing cooperates.  And she's in danger of failing.

Robin runs drills with her over and over, and she cannot defend herself each time.

“It's no use,” she says, collapsing onto the stone floor.  “I can't do this.”

“Sure you can,” Robin argues.  He's always so optimistic, she wonders if he even sees how awful she is.  “You just need more practice.”

“I think we both know the reason I can't defend myself against dark magic,” she whispers.  “It's because I already tried, and lost.”

Robin shakes his head.  “Bullshit.”

“I was top of my class before the Dark One touched me, Robin.” she reveals.  “Look at me now.”

“I am.  I do.  Everyday.”

It's not said in his usual flirtatious manner.  It's deep and sincere, in a husky, emotion-laced voice that makes her shiver.  Because she knows there's something between them, deep down inside.

“Everyone always knew me as Cora’s daughter,” Regina confesses.  “They assumed I would misuse dark curses or engage in her well known cutthroat competitive tactics.  But it wasn't ever me.  And the more time I spent at boarding school, the more I felt  _myself._ But since that day, Robin… whatever happened, whatever he did to me?  It  _did_ change me.”

 He frowns, shaking his head as if he doesn’t believe it.

“I’ll bet it just destroyed your confidence.  It made you scared of yourself.  You've got all the technical knowledge, all the skill… you just keep hesitating when it comes to execution. Maybe deep down inside you don't want to save your own life because you don't value it highly enough.  But  _I_ value you.  And as soon as I can convince you that you are worth more than you give yourself credit for, you're going to be top of the class as you are in everything else.”

“You don't think I'm cursed?  Or...evil?”

“No,” Robin sighs.  He sits down next to her and puts an arm around her.  They do this, sometimes.  Get too close to one another.  She allows it because it feels nice, but it's bound to hurt her, getting too close to this Gryffindor. “I think you are a lot of things, but I don't think you are cursed.”

“What am I, then?” she asks him.

“Intelligent.  Brave. Bold and audacious.” His fingers weave through her hair in a way that makes her shiver. “And gorgeous, of course.”

“Robin,” she warns.  She's never taken an interest in his advances (she has but she's never let  _him_ know that) and she's not about to start now, not when she's vulnerable and frustrated and desperately wants to feel loved.

“I'm sorry,” he says reflexively. He's always saying things like that, and apologizing as soon as she protests.  “But it's true.”

“There are lots of prettier girls in Hogwarts,” she reminds him.  “If that's all this is about—”

“There isn't a single prettier girl in Hogwarts.  But even if there was, that's not what  _this_ is about,” he assures.  “After all this time you must know how I feel about you.”

It’s too honest, and makes her feel too good, too hopeful, too blessed.  So she runs away from the feeling.

“Let’s practice a bit more,” she says, dusting off the dirt of the floor, hoping to shake off some of the painful feelings that cling to her chest in the process.

Robin, for his part, handles the shift in conversation easily, and rises to his feet, ready for another drill.

 

.::.

 

He's so taken with her.  So utterly  _besotted_ with her.

And she won't let him in.

Whenever he compliments her he can tell she's not exactly  _disinterested,_ that her annoyance with him is not exactly sincere.

But she keeps pushing him away, and he hates it.

He especially hates it because he knows she thinks is doing him a favor by being so distant.  Because she thinks she will hurt him

She acts like she's toxic, but since he met her, he's felt more blessed than ever before.

At first, he's so overcome by how he feels with her, how awestruck he is by her beauty, and how much he wants to kiss her, that he can think of little else.

Then one day, he finds her in the library, pouring over books.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

She murmurs something about researching curses for class, but he knows that is shit.  

She's trying to find out why she died and came back to life.

She's trying to find out what happened to Daniel.

“Come on, love,” he presses, “all the wizards around the world have their theories but none are certain what happened, and perhaps it's better that way.  Let's not ask why, let's just be grateful that you got your second chance at life again.”

“ _You_ are grateful I am alive?” she asks skeptically.

“On the list of things I'm most grateful for that's high on the list.  I can't imagine my life without you in it.  It seems a rather dull and lonely one.”

“You've lost more friends by being with me than you gained,” she points out.

“They weren't really friends, were they?  I feel more at ease with you than anyone, Regina.  Maybe it is because we are so alike.  We know what it's like to be gossiped about, to have other people try to tell our stories.  Maybe it's because you don't suck up to me, it's probably at least partially because you're beautiful, but I don't quite think that's all—”

 She kisses him then, for the first time.  It's rough and deep and needy, not at all like he imagined his first kiss with her (and he's imagined it plenty of times) but he kisses her back with everything he has, and wraps his arms around her, holds her tight through a passionate snogging session in the library that is so delightfully cliche he can't even stand it.

“I'm sorry,” she whispers after she rips herself away from his embrace. “I just wanted to know how that felt.”

“How did it feel?” he asks softly.  

“Wonderful.” she says with a smile that leaves her face too fast.  She clears her throat and adds sternly.  “But… that won't happen again.”

He realizes then that Regina is not ready to be loved.  She's too full of self loathing, too tortured and frightened of what that love might bring.  She needs someone to trust in her, to be for there, to hold her when she needs it, with no other motives.  

So he ignores the pain in his heart, and makes no plans of winning hers.  There is so much more that is to come, so much more she needs his support for.

So he waits for her.  He gives her friendship, understanding and trust, and asks nothing in return.  It's torture, but he waits for her.   

But it’s worth it in the end, when it is unmistakably her choice.  When she finally gives in to the feelings that have surrounded them since they first met.

 


End file.
